Thursday, October 05, 2006

We Have Moved

Due to my Blog looking extremely crap on Mozilla and me having lost all admin rights, I have now moved to....

The Plagiarism of the World

See ya on the flip side.

Colours Are Brighter

Indie Peter Coombs and all for a good cause? Break me off a piece of that.

Visit Colours are Brighter at

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Big Sloppy Kisses and...

Congratulations Alice and Fatso!

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

I love you both!

Friday, August 18, 2006

This Happy Little Vegemite Turns 100

Yep - this is my 100th post. On a day when you can't bring a bottle of water on a plane, Jon Benet's killer has finally come forth and when too many mashed potatoes were eaten by moi, at least we know something in the world is right.

So. I'm still here. It's been coming up six months now and I have become a Londoner with the black snot and beer gut to proove it.

I made some new friends last night. One of them is Irish and little with curly hair and I just want to put him in my pocket and keep him. He's just so cute. Yes, I am aware of how much men loath being calling cute yet I still continue to do it. I may ruffle his hair shortly.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Sharing is Caring

Snow Patrol
Set The Fire To The Third Bar (with Martha Wainwright)

I find the map and draw a straight line
Over rivers, farms, and state lines
The distance from here to where you'd be
It's only finger-lengths that I see
I touch the place where I'd find your face
My finger in creases of distant dark places

I hang my coat up in the first bar
There is no peace that I've found so far
The laughter penetrates my silence
As drunken men find flaws in science

Their words mostly noises
Ghosts with just voices
Your words in my memory
Are like music to me

I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground
I, I pray that something picks me up
And sets me down in your warm arms

After I have travelled so far
We'd set the fire to the third bar
We'd share each other like an island
Until exhausted, close our eyelids
And dreaming, pick up from
The last place we left off
Your soft skin is weeping
A joy you can't keep in

I'm miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground
And I, I pray that something picks me up
And sets me down in your warm arms

And miles from where you are,
I lay down on the cold ground
And I, I pray that something picks me up
And sets me down in your warm arms

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

And the band played Waltzing Matilda....

Headlines that the fabulous Mirror printed to make me feel better today:

“Cry Me Kangaroo Down Sport”

“Sobbing Matilda”

“Grosso Injustice”

“Sucker Punch”

At least we know the unbiased* British media feels the pain as well. I’m so annoyed today. Not only that the Socceroos lost, but also that I put this hideous green nail polish on to support them that only serves as a grim reminder and makes me look like a 14 year old girl.

*towards Australia because they LOVE to see us lose here

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Engerland.... Engerland....

My weekend was crazy fucking batshit insane and I loved every minute of it.

I developed a bit of a “mate-crush” as well (to add to the thousands) which probably added to the weekend’s awesomeness – he kept complimenting me on my hands which are apparently pretty little girl hands. This made me proud because I have an unfounded fear that people will mistake me for a man (as I’m over 6 feet tall) but, if I have pretty little girl hands, how could this possibly occur?

Still recovering though. Experiencing the World Cup in London is taking its toll. Aussie fanatics are one thing, English Soccer hooligans (which is nearly the entire population) are another. I’ve been forced, that’s right forced, to drink for every English game: work even let us off early and supplied the booze. How could I say no?

Anyway, the weekend began with a merry jaunt over at Notting Hill’s “Neighbourhood” club. The music wasn’t all that good but we made the most of it. What kind of London club closes at 3 and forces 5 rat-shit Australians and 1 wankered Nottinghamite to go home and drink Tequila until 8am before moving onward to Camden Market before it is even open? I mean what kind of responsible establishment does such a thing? What kind of bar opens at 9am and allows said ‘peeps’ to continue drinking until collapsing into a taxi at 2pm?

After 2pm I fell asleep on a mate’s couch until 8 the next day, moving only to cry for water.

Sunday: Australia vs Brazil.

Overlander. Budweiser. Salmon and Cream Cheese Bagel. Sparkies. Lots of Sparkies. Friendly Faces. Beer. Thames. Tide coming in. Drunken Australians. Drunken Australians IN the Thames. More beer. Snub’s getting huggy. Comfy couches. Slug and Lettuce. Ham and Bree with Apple Chutney. Red Curried Prawn stolen from Neighbour. Go home. Leave the bulbous one. Fall asleep.

There. I know I’m living up to the stereotype of a drunken Australian abroad, but it’s summer so I’m allowda.

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Call me rugby superstar....

Soundtrack: Darren Hanlon - Falling Aeroplanes

I scored a try, I scored a try, I scored I try....! It didn't help the debilitating sense of loneliness I felt on the way home but Napoleon Dynamite was on TV when I got home and that worked a treat.